


The Nesting Season

by fangirlSevera



Series: A Man for All Seasons [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Contractor!Clint, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Professor!Phil, Spring, Thunderstorms, pet adoption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:49:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3816130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlSevera/pseuds/fangirlSevera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spring is the time of year when families grow, and so it is for Clint who wants to adopt a dog. </p><p>In the meantime, professors and students alike are being run ragged as the end of the college semester draws near.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nesting Season

**Author's Note:**

> Other pairings mentioned or implied: Natasha/Bucky, Bobbi/Lance, Trip/Jemma, FitzMack.
> 
> Basically almsot all the SHIELD babies make an appearance in this one.
> 
> All the thanks to [cruelest_month](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cruelest_month/pseuds/cruelest_month) for pulling off beta duty even during a stressful time. <3

There had been invitations to Stark parties for Mardi Gras and St. Patrick's Day. Both were rejected out of appreciation for his liver. On Easter, Clint made himself sick from too many jelly beans and chocolate eggs.

There had even been a snowstorm not two days after the calendar declared the first day of spring.

Now it was mid-April and the last vestiges of winter's grip had finally melted away even from the most shadowy corners of Clint's yard. Robins chirped and sparrows twittered, building new nests. Trees and bushes were in bud, some already in bloom, white and pink petals filling the warming air with sweetness. And unfortunately allergens. 

Clint sniffed and rubbed his nose, going back to his raking. It was almost as much work as it had been in the fall. The thaw revealed so many sticks, matted leaves, and pine cones that emigrated from the large pine in Phil's yard with the strong March winds. The raking also helped strip away the yellow, dead blades of grass and allowed the yard to turn greener faster.

Clint stripped out of his light jacket. The breeze had required he wear it when he first stepped outdoors, but the work started to make him sweat. He slouched back on the steps of his back porch and gazed out at the expanse of his yard. It was a decent enough size, chosen for its length. But it had only been a month after Clint moved that the city had a new ordinance of firing arrows within city limits. So, his notion of setting up targets on his own property was no longer a possibility. 

It made Clint feel a little guilty: all that space and nothing really to do with it. Phil had suggested a vegetable garden. But Clint couldn't keep a houseplant alive much less a full garden. He was more than happy to allow the squirrels to dig up and plant tulip bulbs as they may. That was enough gardening for him.

It was the sort of yard that could have kids and pets running around it. And since kids were right out of the question...

"I think it's a great idea!" Phil grinned when Clint told him. They were sitting together, rocking gently on a wooden swing bench in Phil's yard.

"You do?"

"You'll be an excellent dog owner."

Clint fidgeted with his beer bottle, squinting at the long shadows cast by the descending sun." Big decision. Being responsible for another living being."

"You ever have one before?"

"Sort of." He'd been at homes that happened the have dogs. But like most things in his childhood, they belonged to the family, nothing to claim as his own. He played with them, was allowed to give them treats. But the few months before he and his brother were shifted around again didn't allow for the kind of attachment a person ought to have for an animal in their care.

Thinking about his brother sent an all-together different pang of longing for a childhood lost. He didn't think about Barney often, not any more. Years of being out of contact, not knowing where he was, what he was doing helped keep him out of mind. Clint was certain he was alive though, and possibly not incarcerated. Surely if either scenario was true, someone would have tried to get in touch with Clint. So as far as he was concerned, no news was good news.

Phil was giving him a curious look at his prolonged silence. Clint shook his head, rattling his mind back to main topic. "Did you ever have one?" 

Phil smiled. "As a kid. English Bulldog. I think my father imagined her growing into some kind of tough guard dog. Instead she was the friendliest thing. Too friendly. Would wander off with anyone. Sometimes we didn't even realize she'd gone until we got a phone call from whoever's car she jumped into."

Clint laughed. "What was her name?"

Phil pinked a little. "I named her Peggy."

Clint jostled their elbows together. "Of course you did."

Natasha, however, did not seem as immediately encouraging when he called her later that evening. "What?" Clint demanded at her silence.

Natasha made a small, indecipherable noise. "This is really it, isn't it? We're settling down."

Clint frowned. "Well, I figured the whole buying a house and being in an exclusive relationship for seven months thing indicated my commitment to staying. Are... Are you saying you want to move again? Aren't you happy here?" He bit his tongue so as to not bring up Bucky. The nice weather had brought about steady work. Clint had been seeing a lot of Barnes as they worked on converting someone's deck into an enclosed sunroom. He was being a lot less sullen than when Clint first met him. And yeah, that was partly form his therapy, and the support of good friends like Steve and Sam. But Clint knew from experience that there was something to be said about the power of love.

Something he would never say to Nat and expect to still have a tongue after.

The ensuing silence was a thoughtful one, and Clint let her have her time. "Yeah, I think I am. But it's weird, you know?"

"I know. But the difference between you and me, I've been looking for this. Kind of snuck up on you, huh? But where have we ever been with so many good people?"

"Nowhere," she agreed. She blew out a breath then laughed. "So, a dog? That really does complete the picture doesn't? You, Phil, growing old together on a porch swing. A fat dog asleep at your feet, like a gay Norman Rockwell painting."

Clint's breath caught at her "growing old together" comment, which she had to have used deliberately. But he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of reacting to it further.

===

Most of the classes were done with the day, but the improved weather meant there were a lot more students around the academic areas of the college campus instead of hustling back to the dorms. Several students were spread out on the grass of the quad, holding books or tablets over their faces to study and block out the sun. Shirtless frat boys were tossing Frisbees back and forth. Kids on bicycles weaved between them all, one hand on the handle bars, the other keeping a phone to their ear. Clint dodged out of their way as they whizzed passed.

Phil's office was in one of the 19th century buildings, one that's been there since the college's foundation. The staircase to the upper level was narrow and aged floorboards creaked with every step. That didn't stop kids running up at down them, squeezing past Clint without an "excuse me" or any acknowledgment of his existence. 

He found Jasper Sitwell at the top of stairs, smirking. "Don't mind them. It's course selection time, room lotteries for next semester, and seniors with projects to finish before they can graduate next month. Busy time."

"Sounds stressful."

"Oh, it is. What do you think happened to my hair and Phil’s?"

Clint shook his head, glad he never felt pressured to put himself through the stress of higher education. He could admire those who did, and had come out the other side successfully. But better them than him. 

Phil's office door was cracked open. Clint knocked and pushed it further open at the same time. Phil was stacking folders and putting them in his briefcase. He looked up and smiled in relief that it was Clint coming in and not another frazzled student. 

"Hey," Clint greeted. "Ready to go?" The shelter was open for only another couple of hours, and Clint really wanted Phil to come with him.

"Almost. I'm waiting for my TA to come back from the library with some photocopies."

Clint smirked and a naughty thought came to mind. "In that case..." He shut the door all the way behind him and approached Phil's desk, putting a little swing in his hips. "Isn't there _anything_ I can do to get a passing grade?"

Phil's eyes widened. "Don't even-"

Clint hitched himself up on the edge of the desk in front of Phil. "I'm just messing." Still, he tugged on Phil's lapels to bring him between Clint's knees. "I just don't believe I'm the only one who've said that to you here."

"That would be grossly inappropriate," Phil said against his lips, his hands curling around Clint's waist to keep him steady on the desk's edge. 

"Hey, P.C. I- Whoa! Put a sock on the knob or something!"

Phil jumped back like a man scalded, ducking his head, embarrassed. Clint twisted around and found Skye unabashedly staring at them with a smile on her face from the doorway. "Hi, there," he said, carefully sliding off the desk as to not knock anything on the floor.

"My office hours are over, Skye," Phil said, concentrating on organizing his briefcase again.

"Yeah, I can see that." She winked at Clint. Her expression sobered and she waved a piece of paper. "But I'm down a credit for next semester. Can't you fit me in somewhere?"

"Are you sure you want to take another history class? You don't need it for your major. And if you want another 2B course, I know May has unfilled classes."

Skye's nose crinkled. "May's no fun. I don't mind history as long as you’re teaching it," Skye practically whined. 

That made Clint raise his eyebrows. Skye noticed and stuck her tongue out at him. 

Phil sighed. "I'll take a look and e-mail you if something opens up. But seriously consider taking a Psych course with May. She might surprise you."

"Ever consider dance with Romanoff?" Clint butted in.

Skye snorted. "Hell no! I don't dance. And she's even scarier than May!"

Clint snickered. "I'll remember to tell her that." Getting the students' perspective on his friends was fascinating. 

A young man shouldered the door open, his hands occupied with stacks of papers. "Here's those copies you needed," he said, setting them on the desk.

"Thank you, Trip."

"No problem, sir." He turned around, and seeing Skye, his face lit up with the brightest smile Clint had ever seen on a person. "Hey, girl! You still coming to the lake house after finals?"

"Yup! And Jemma said she can, too. Which will make Mack happy."

His face fell. "And why would that be?"

Skye rolled her eyes. "Because wherever Jemma goes, Fitz is sure to follow!"

The grin returned to full wattage. "Right! And Bobbi and Lance are in, too."

"Ugh, really? All they're going to do is have sex, fight loud, then have even louder make-up sex!"

"And that's not a conversation you should be having in my office," Phil interrupted. 

"You were the one spreading your boyfriend out on your desk."

Trip turned back to them, cocking an eyebrow and giving the desk a worried look.

Phil turned positively pink. "I didn't- There was no spread-" He took a moment to collect himself. "We actually need to get going. Thank you, Trip. _Good-bye,_ Skye."

Trip's eyebrow didn't lower as he said, "Yeah, good night, sir."

Skye winked again and turned to leave with her friend. She clearly mouthed the word "spreading" to him before shutting the door behind them.

Phil pinched the bridge of his nose. Clint started laughing. "You have quite the effect on your kids. Did that one actually call you 'sir'?"

"He's an army brat. It's a habit."

"Suuure." Because, seriously, how could this man _not_ be the object of his students’ illicit fantasies? Hell, Clint may have been better motivated in school if he had teachers like Phil to please. The kind with irresistible asses. Phil deftly stopped Clint's hand from getting a grab of that tempting backside, and laced their fingers together. 

Phil shot him a warning look. "Shelter closes soon, remember?" 

Clint squeezed his hand. "Some day. This office."

"No." He latched his briefcase shut.

===

The lobby of the shelter was bright and clean. Posters lined the walls with pictures of kittens and puppies, most expounding on the joys of adoption. A couple of them were anti-abuse messages with images that were hard to look at.

Clint sat with the adoption application and questionnaire balanced on his knee. A family passed by, a mewing carrier was held carefully between the two giggling pigtailed girls.

Phil was examining the wall of toys and accessories. It pleased Clint to see the way Phil would hover over anything purple. 

Clint scribbled his signature at the bottom of the paper. With slightly damp hands he brought it up to the counter. The adoption counselor grinned. "All done?" And she looked over the application, humming. Her eyebrows rose at one point. "You marked 'one' for number in your household, but have a name in the family members box?"

Clint rubbed the back his neck. "Yeah, I wasn't sure what to- That's my boyfriend. We technically don't live together, but he's around a lot."

"Okay. Is he here today?" Her eyes gleamed in a way and a reason Clint could not fathom. 

"Uh, yeah. Hey, Phil!"

Phil turned. His mouth twitched down when he saw the girl behind the counter. The girl (Darcy, her tag read) was grinning like a red-lipped Cheshire cat."Hiya, prof!"

How was it, no matter where they went it seemed, some student of Phil's was employed there?

"Darcy," Phil greeted her. "How have you been?"

"Run ragged! Between here and school. At least here the animals don't have expectations of me beyond, food, drink, and cuddles."

"All set for next semester, though?"

"Yup! Totes excited for Poli Sci with Victoria Hand. Her lipstick screams HBIC. I'm sure I'll learn a lot from her."

"I imagine you will."

"Right," Darcy clapped her hands together. "No more school talk! Time to meet some puppies!"

"I thought I put down a preference for adult dogs," Clint said, leaning over the counter and trying point to it on the page in Darcy's hand. Everyone wanted baby animals. The older ones were less likely to get adopted. Just as, Clint knew from experience, it was with human children.

"Age ain't nothing but a number! All dogs are puppies!" Darcy led them down a hall to a spacious room. A few toys were scattered about the floor as well as some cushions and a water bowl. 

"If you boys will wait here a moment, I'll be right back." She left the room singing, "Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match!"

Clint sat down on a plastic chair. It screeched against the tiled floor under his weight. 

"Nervous?" Phil asked, rubbing a hand along his shoulders. 

"Yeah, sort of? It's stupid isn't it?"

"No, not all. It's a big step."

Clint chuckled and rubbed his hands over his face. "It's not like we're having a baby, Phil."

Phil shrugged. "Some people would say we are. Or, you are."

"Let's just face it now. _Everyone_ is going to call it _our_ dog." 

"Yeah," Phil agreed, not at all sounding like he actually cared.

When Darcy returned she had a curly-haired, dark dog with floppy ears by a leash in one hand, and a clipboard in the other. "Gentlemen, let me introduce you to Princess Mononoke. She's a Cocker Spaniel who belonged to a dear old lady who had to give her up when she had to go into assisted living." Darcy unhooked the leash from Princess Mononoke's pink collar. "She's very sweet, but a little shy."

To immediately prove her point, the dog stayed where she was and hunkered down, putting her nose between her front paws. Darcy handed Clint the clipboard. "And this is her medical history. We make sure all our dogs are tested and treated for worms, fleas, and ticks. They are also spayed or neutered. And we vaccinate for distemper and kennel cough. Everyone is also microchipped," she explained. 

Clint dutifully looked the files over. Darcy moved to sit in one corner and observe their interaction. He handed the files to Phil and crouched down slowly in front of the dog. "Hi, there," he said, gently. He reached a hand out and scratched behind her ears. She didn't react strongly one way or the other. She just laid there, nose between her paws. Phil joined them on the floor, sitting cross-legged. He grabbed a squeaky toy and tried to tempt her with it. 

Princess Mononoke yawned.

After several minutes of basically being ignored by the dog, Darcy stood up and grabbed the leash. "Yeah, okay. So she might be a little too docile for you. Let me get someone who'll appreciated running around your nice yard."

She next brought in a terrier who was a little too small and yappy for Clint's taste. Although Phil seemed to get a kick out of the way the little ball of fur literally bounced off the walls as he chased after tennis balls.

"This is Arrow," Darcy said, leading in a dog that looked mostly like a golden lab, but had who knows how many other breeds mixed in. He had a cast on his front, right leg, and his left eye was closed in a permanent wink.

"Arrow?" Phil repeated, and gave Clint a smirk. 

Darcy undid the leash and handed over the file. "Poor baby was brought in when someone found him the middle of the street. Hit-and-run most likely."

Clint's stomach churned at the cruelty of people. You couldn't mistake that you hit _something_ with an animal that size. And someone decided it wasn't going to be their problem, even if it was entirely their fault. 

"He's lucky," Phil said, reading the medical history over Clint's shoulder.

"That he is," Darcy agreed. "And a real trooper."

Arrow limped over to Clint and Phil. He gave Phil a cursory sniff, but immediately took greater interest in Clint, licking his hands vigorously.

"Ew, hey!" Clint tried to raise his hands out of reach. Arrow whined and sat up on his haunches, trying to follow anyway.

"You didn't happen to eat any pizza before you came here, did ya?" Darcy asked.

"Warmed up a couple slices in the microwave..."

Darcy sighed. "He _loves_ pizza. He's taken slices right out of people's hands if we order in for staff."

"Well, who doesn't love pizza?" Clint asked, managing to get his hands away from the dog's mouth to start petting him properly. Arrow grumbled contently and flopped over, exposing his stomach.

Phil laughed and was the first to give in to giving tummy rubs. Arrow panted and kicked his legs at the attention. 

Darcy watched them with an ever-increasing smile. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Arrow woofed.

"How much longer does the cast need to be on?" Phil, ever practical, asked.

"The vet was coming 'round Monday. We could hold him for you until then. Or you could bring him back if you still want to take him home today."

Clint tried to tell her was more than willing to take him home today, but he suddenly found himself on his back with a face full of fur. 

Back out in main area, Phil stood by the counter with Arrow while Darcy helped Clint pick out all the supplies he was going to need: bed, dishes, toys. Darcy couldn't stop grinning at him. "What?" Clint finally asked, hefting a bag of food under his arm.

"I just knew you were the one. I have a sort of instinct for that thing. It's what makes me so good at my job."

"The one what?"

"That deserved Arrow. Only an awesome person could have him. I would have brought him to you first thing, but I thought, give a couple other kids a chance to play with new people." She helped carry the smaller items back to the counter. After she rang up the items and the adoption fees, she let them go, grin firmly in place and said, "You're all very lucky to have found each other!"

_You don’t know the half of it_ , Clint thought.

Phil helped Clint's dog into the cab of the truck while Clint put the supplies in the back. "I'm already thinking of changing his name," Clint admitted, sliding in behind the wheel.

"Why? Isn't it perfect for you?"

Clint winced. "A little too on the nose, don't you think? And I wouldn't want to confuse him, using his name when not talking to or about him."

"What were you thinking of, then?"

Clint took a breath and held it, thinking on the short time they had together, and the one word that kept coming up. "He's Lucky."

Phil smiled, eyes crinkling in their delightful way. "Yes."

===

Lucky spent his first night in his new home exploring and sniffing everything he could reach. The cast slowed his process and there were a couple failed attempts at jumping on the furniture. He took those failures in stride, shaking himself off and moving on like nothing happened.

After work the following Monday, Clint took Lucky to get his cast removed, and tags engraved. Lucky seemed tentative at first about using his leg, not having been able to for so long. But once Clint got him back home, Lucky dashed about the yard, tags jingling in his exuberant motions. 

Phil had made the mistake of joining them before he changed out of his suit, and got muddy paws all down his front. He didn't seem to mind, though. God, did Clint love that man.

As far as Clint was aware, Lucky had no obedience training, and ignored any attempts Clint made to make him stay, sit, or to recognize the instruction, "down." It was impossible to keep Lucky off the furniture. He ignored his doggy bed and curled up with and on Clint most nights. He did however respond to Phil's authoritative tone (which Clint responded to as well, just in a _completely_ different way). So whenever they were in Phil's house, Lucky actually did stay off the bed and didn't whine for scraps in the kitchen.

Once word spread that Clint Barton was now a dog owner, he started receiving more visitors than usual. Natasha always came around, anyway, but Bucky had insisted on tagging along to meet the new family member. Natasha was more of a cat than dog person. Lucky seemed to be astute to that, and kept his usual display of affection to a polite minimum and lavished it all on Bucky who said Lucky reminded him of the neighborhood mutts in Brooklyn where he and Steve had grown up.

Even Kate at the range wanted a look and cooed over the pictures, which of course Clint had two dozen of on his phone already. She snorted and shoved the phone back at him saying "You're a gross sap," when she came across the one he snapped of Phil asleep on the sofa, glasses askew, and Lucky sprawled over him.

At the work site, Steve, Sam and Thor demanded photos, too. There wasn't much time, though, to crowd around Clint's phone. The weather forecasts were abuzz with potential strong storms. By early afternoon, the western sky had darkened considerably. Clint and his crew battened down the hatches, storing tools, securing anything that could be whisked around as the first gust of foreboding wind blew through bringing with it the scent of heavy rain and a distant rumble of thunder.

The first storm did not last long. But the rain fell fast and hard. Street drains, not yet cleared of the detritus of the past two seasons, left street corners filled with water, which sprayed in waves as Clint's truck drove through it, his windshield wipers working furiously to clear his field of vision.

Mere minutes later, by the time Clint pulled into his driveway, it had all stopped. The sun even peaked out from behind grey clouds.

Lucky was waiting for him just inside the door, not in anticipation for Clint himself, but the ability to dash past him into the yard and wet the grass a touch more. "Better get it all out now," Clint told him. "Won't be fit for man nor beast later." Soft rumbles had started again, an almost constant noise.

Clint got Lucky back inside and wiped his paws off. He turned the TV on to a local station. The tiny map in the lower left corner of the screen was covered in yellow: nearly the entire state under a tornado watch. The image switched briefly to a radar image, a blob of yellow, dotted with red was not far off. 

Clint took his phone out and called Phil.

"Where are you?" He asked, concern overpowering good manners.

"Melinda's. We're having a study date." Which Clint knew was their code for drinking wine while grading papers and bitching about their less dedicated students together.

"You keeping an eye on the weather?"

"Yes, we know. Melinda has a basement, but I'm sure it won't come to that."

"Yeah, probably. See you later?"

"I'll call before I head out."

Clint busied himself with making dinner. Lucky's claws tapped against the kitchen floor as he licked-up wayward pasta sauce. Lightening flashed in the unusually dark sky. Thunder cracked like the sound of the heavens splitting, reverberating in an endless echo. The next thunderclap bit at its heels. It startled Lucky and he barked and whined at the intangible threat.

Looking out the window, Clint could see the wind picked-up again in a steady, furious gust. The wings on the plastic flamingos in his yard spun in a nearly invisible blur.

Clint was slouched on the sofa, full from his plate of spaghetti, when the TV started blaring a staccato tone. The game show he was watching was abruptly switched off as the station went live to their weather studio where a woman in a tidy suit was urging viewers to take shelter _now._

Clint tilted his head and muted the television for a moment. He strained, but he couldn't hear any sirens. The radar on the TV screen was focused on an area some fifty miles south. The meteorologist digitally circled the rotating storm and made an arrow to give its trajectory. Clint's nerves settled as it appeared to not be heading his way. 

Outside, the world had taken on a sickly, sallow tint. Clint remembered such skies from his boyhood in Iowa. It meant somewhere close was catching all kinds of hell. The pounding of the rain worsened. And although it wasn't the smartest idea to go to a window, Clint had to check and see. Yeah, it had started to hail. Pea-sized balls of ice pelted against the house's siding and windows. Had he not installed them himself, he might have been worried for their integrity.

He jumped back from the window when a flash of lightening was too close for comfort. The following crash preceded the moment Clint's lights flickered then went out completely, along with the television.

Lucky jumped off the couch, tags tinkling as he barked anxiously. "It's okay, it's okay," Clint soothed, using the light from his phone to seek out candles and the small transistor radio. He sat back on the couch, tuning the radio in for weather updates and lit leftover Christmas candles as the storm raged on.

Lucky whined and climbed into Clint's lap. "You don't like loud noises, huh?" Lucky woofed.

Clint's phone rang with the opening guitar riffs of Van Halen's "Hot for Teacher." 

"Yes, the power's out here, too," Clint answered, anticipating the question.

Phil sighed. "I look forward to resetting all the clocks. How are you doing?"

"I've got a heavy dog on me, and it's beginning to smell like a perfumed pine forest in here. You and Melinda grading by candlelight?"

"Melinda declared it a sign from God to end our suffering."

"Coming home, then?"

Phil hummed. "I'll give it some time to see if the street lights come back on and I should drink some more water before I get in a car."

"I shouldn't let you play with Melinda, she's a bad influence."

Phil chuckled. "And she knows it." 

Clint checked in with Nat who assured him she was well prepared since Bucky had insisted on making her all kinds of severe weather survival kits. Clint used his phone once more to check the radar. It looked like the storm system was on its way out. But with no TV, and not wanting to drain his phone, Clint let himself doze, stroking Lucky's back.

Two hours later, the phone roused Clint and Lucky from their half-sleep. "Power's back at Melinda's." Phil told him after Clint grunted a greeting. "How are we on our side of town?"

Clint fumbled with the remote. "No joy," he said when the TV stayed black.

"Well, it looks like the worse is over anyway. I'm going to head home."

"I'll meet you with a flashlight."

In the end, Clint didn't have to. He spotted Phil's headlights the same time his microwave's clock blinked on with an enthusiastic beep and the fridge hummed back to life. 

The rain had finally stopped. Clint let Lucky and himself out, flicking on the porch light which shone out a little ways into his yard and Phil's driveway. There were plenty of sticks and a couple branches littering the yard. One of the flamingos was bent at its spindly metal legs, head resting in the mud. 

Lucky bounded over to Phil. "Careful, wet paws," Clint warned, even though Phil still never seemed to mind. He crouched down and let Lucky rest his forepaws on his thighs. "Roads okay?"

Phil stood and transferred his affection to Clint with a quick kiss. "A little waterlogged in a couple intersections, but no branches or wires down." He squinted in the dim light into his own yard. "Although it looks like my pine tree shed every one of its cones."

The stormy weather gave way to a beautiful weekend. Phil, Nick and Melinda were in desperate need of relaxation in the midst of finals and graduation prep. So, Phil was hosting a cook-out with his friends over. It was the perfect night for it. Everyone was comfortable in short sleeves even as the setting sun stretched shadows over the yard. The cold beer bottles were appreciated as the air thickened, a precursor the oppressing humidity of summer.

Lucky had the benefit of free reign over the two yards. Which was good given how hard Nick liked to throw the tennis ball. Melinda, surprisingly, turned the most into mush around the dog. She smiled more than Clint had ever seen her. She even talked baby to Lucky, telling him "Such a good boy. Such a handsome boy, yes!" Which was new and unsettling to Clint, but clearly wasn't the first time Phil and Nick had seen this side of her.

Consequently, Melinda became Lucky's favorite and he didn't leave her side the rest of the evening except to snaffle up a piece of hamburger that fell when Phil was transferring patties from the grill to the serving plate. 

===

The breeze off the water was cool and gentle in the early morning. The lagoon was fully thawed and Parks employees were carrying paddle boats out of storage and securing them to the short docks. As they walked along the river, the water lapped against the large slabs of pale stone that was put there a couple years ago to curb erosion along the banks. The flat river surface was suddenly broken by a fish jumping out of its depths and landing back with a splash.

Clint held Lucky's leash in one hand, the other was in his jeans pocket and Phil's was tucked through Clint's elbow. Lucky was too interested in the varied smells of the trees and whatever had lain in the thick grass for them to stay on the paved path.

There were plenty of ducks and geese both in and out of the water. Posted signs gave strict instruction not to feed any of them. One old lady planted on a bench paid no mind to them and picked apart a loaf of bread to share among the honking and quacking masses. Lucky barked at them, but they ignored him in favor of getting their illicit treats.

Clint gave the leash a slight tug in admonishment. "Mind your own business."

"He's a dog, everything's his business," Phil reminded him. 

As their leisurely stroll continued, the sun rose higher. With its warmth, Phil against his side, Lucky's snuffling, and the calls of the ring-billed gulls, Clint had never experienced such a complete moment of peaceful contentment. He started at the realization: That was it. It was the feeling he had been chasing his entire life. One that meant he had well and truly found a home.

Kate was right. He was a disgusting sap. Clint took a deep breath of clean air and let it out on a long sigh. 

"What's wrong?" Phil asked, fingers squeezing Clint's arm, misinterpreting the sigh.

Clint grinned. "Abso-fucking-lutely nothing." He ducked his head, catching Phil's lips with a kiss. 

It did the job of erasing the creases of concern on Phil's face, replacing them with those happy crinkles and glittering eyes. "What's gotten into you?"

"Would it be cheesy if I said 'love'?"

"Yes," Phil said, not even taking a nanosecond to consider.

"Then I won't," Clint reassured him, grinning still.

They had several more yards of serenity until Lucky started barking again and straining against his harness. Two large brown geese nearby hissed back at him. The cause of Lucky's interest and the geese's ire: The adult birds were herding their gaggle of fluffy, yellow goslings across the path.

"Oh, my god," Clint said, taking in the downy balls with tiny, unusable wings and little beaks only able to make peeps while their parents honked. "That's the cutest thing I've ever seen."

Lucky tilted his head at him and grumbled. 

"I dunno, boy. They're really small, and small is cuter."

Phil nudged him a little too hard to be entirely playful. "Don't say that. You'll give him body image issues."

"Aw, he knows I don't mean it." He crouched down to give his dog a heartfelt pat and rub which had Lucky toppling over in joy, his tongue lolling and legs kicking. This allowed for the adorable goose family to make it to the water without further molestation.

===

Lucky's other favorite place for walks was the shady college campus where instead of water fowl there were plenty of squirrels to growl at and try to chase. Normally, they did their walks there in the evening, when the grounds were clear of students, but classes and finals were all over. Everyone but the graduates were packed up and leaving for home (or their closest approximation of). Clint took the day off to celebrate the semester's end with Phil, Nat, and their friends.

"Clint! Hey, Clint!" Skye's voice called from behind. Clint turned and watched her run up to him. Following her at a slower pace was a group of more young people. A small boy and girl, and one HUGE boy who looked like he could carry everyone else in one arm and not break a sweat.

"Clint, hey," Skye said once she caught up to them, a little out of breath. "Oh my god, is this the dog? Darcy told me you guys got a dog but Coulson's been a pill about letting me see his phone to look at pictures."

"I'm sure he's just afraid you'll hack it just by touching it."

"Why would I want to? To intercept your sexting? Ew. No thanks." She crouched down and started ruffling the fur on Lucky's chest. "Oh, you are cute aren't you?"

At this point Skye's friends caught up with her. "Hi, I'm Jemma," the other girl immediately introduced herself with an English accent. "This is Fitz," " she pointed to the curly-haired boy. "And Mack." 

The tall one, Mack, nodded. "And you're a friend of Skye's?" The question dripped with suspicion, which, fair enough, Clint was just some strange older guy wandering around campus for all he knew.

"He's Phil Coulson's boyfriend," Skye explained, arms still wrapped around Lucky.

The chorus of understanding "Ahhhs," wasn't reassuring. He wondered if Phil knew or minded that reports of his love life is common knowledge among so many students.

"Aren't you all suppose to be gone by now?" Clint asked after giving permission for the others to spoil Lucky with affection.

"We still have a couple hours," said Fitz, taking a picture of the girls and dog with his phone. 

"We wanted to take some commemorative pictures while waiting for Bobbi and Lance," Jemma explained.

"Maybe we should check on them," Fitz suggested.

Mack shook his head. "Best not interrupt their...farewells to the room. They'll come when they're ready."

"Yes, they will," Skye snickered. Jemma gave her a light, admonishing slap on the arm.

That's when Phil came over, wearing dark jeans, a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and no tie. His collar was open just enough for a hint of chest hair to be visible and Clint desperately reminded himself he was in the presence of children.

Lucky woofed a happy greeting. "You're the luckiest dog in the world. You have the best daddies," Skye said.

"That's his name, you know, Lucky," Clint told her.

"Darcy said it was something like Target." She frowned. "But you're right, Lucky is a much better name."

"I'm glad you approve," Phil said sardonically. 

Jemma's phone rang. She smiled at the display before answering. Her conversation was short. "That was Trip," she told her friends. "He said Bobbi and Lance have- ah- detached from each other and are ready to go."

"Finally!" Mack says, head titled back in exasperation. "C'mon, Turbo." He put a hand on Fitz's shoulder.

"Wait, I want a pic with all of us and Lucky! Here, you take it." She pressed her phone into Clint's hand.

The four kids knelt around Lucky who was eating up the attention. Phil stepped away to be out of the shot, but Skye grabbed his wrist. "I want you in the picture, too, P.C.!"

"Why?" 

Clint shook his head at Phil's occasional (and possibly deliberate) ignorance of how much of an effect he can have people. How easy he was to like and get attached to. "Because you're the best." She didn't say the "duh," but it was heavily implied. 

Phil's mouth twitched in a shy smile, but he did as she asked and crouched next to Mack, behind the others. 

"Okay, everyone say 'Lucky!'"

"LUCKY!" Everyone cried, grinning. The so-named dog barked at the sound of his name. 

Clint handed Skye her phone back. Her friends waved good-bye and started back towards the dorms. Skye hesitated in front of Phil. After a moment of lip biting, she stepped forward and gave him a quick hug. It was so fast, and Phil was so stunned he wasn't even able to decide to reciprocate. She was already chasing after her friends and calling "See you in the fall!" over her shoulder.

"Aaw..." Clint started.

"Shut up."

The End of Semester party at Nick's house was bigger and better than the Thanksgiving dinner. There was a lot more people, milling both in and outside the house. And of course a lot more booze for relieved faculty. The heaviest drinkers was a group of professors who apparently shared a student named Wade Wilson, notorious for constantly changing his major.

He found Nat with Melinda and Maria. Maria had her tablet out, showing the other women something. Something that was making them all smile in a way that made Clint reconsider approaching. Nat looked up and caught his eye. Her smile widened and she waved him over. 

"You all look like you're going to eat me."

Maria didn't let up on her shark-like smile. "I was just showing them a photo that was picked-up by the student affairs Facebook." She turned the tablet around, and there was the photo he had taken earlier that day.

The caption read: "Me and the crew with a new friend!" Followed by hashtags #lastdayofschool, #college, and #PClovesCB. And yeah, he hadn't noticed when he was concentrating on getting everyone in frame, but unlike the kids whose smiles were directed at lens, Phil's was directed past it, at the cameraman. "Can you email that to me?" He asked, not rising to the bait of their teasing smirks. 

Maria shrugged and turned the tablet back around to tap at. Moments later Clint's phone chimed with a new message. He made them swear not to show Phil before he could.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Melinda said.

"Going to print it out and frame it?" Nat asked.

That's exactly what he did. "It reminds me of those geese by the river," Clint said after giving it to Phil. "You're a big papa goose with your fluffy babies."

Phil protested against the comparison, but it didn't stop him from putting the photo on his desk.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone is having a nice springtime! I like to think somewhere it's nice and warm and you can take lovely riverside walks without wearing a heavy coat.


End file.
